I know why the caged bird sings
by teacandles
Summary: They say a caged bird never sings. That's not always true.


Author's notes: Older fill for a prompt that I still like, even though it's stupidly short.

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It had been hard not to notice Kurt Hummel. The kid had been different right from the get-go, what with transferring almost in the middle of the year and all that. He was an odd one, a little flamboyant, had a hard time fitting-in (Jeff could swear it was a public school thing, but what did he know). But the kid could dance and he could definitely sing—perfect for a Warbler. But he just didn't fit, like a key in the wrong lock. He was like a canary that had been tossed into a box of sparrows—both were birds, both could sing beautifully, but Kurt stuck out like a sore thumb (in a good way, to Jeff).

That's why it was so strange when Kurt fell into the background. He didn't speak up anymore at rehearsal. According to his classmates he was very quiet, only speaking when spoken to, and nobody really saw him outside of that. Not even his roommate or Blaine, whom the kid seemed to have taken a liking to. No one really seemed to notice this withdrawal, but Jeff did. He kind of missed the irritating little twerp who thought he could change the world with a couple of song-and-dance numbers. He began to follow Kurt around more closely, curious as to where the orange in a sea of apples had gone to, and why he'd gone and changed his colors.

It really struck him that something was off when Kurt came in late to practice. It was the end of spring, the off-season. No big competitions or anything to worry about until next year so rehearsals were far more laid-back than usual. They had been discussing potential songs for next year when the Hummel kid showed up, uniform askew, hair ruffled. Jeff straightened in his seat. Kurt was always so well put-together; this wasn't like him at all. He'd mumbled an apology and settled into the back, away from most everyone else and after a brief berating on the importance of timeliness from the council, it was business as usual. Kurt didn't speak a word during the entire hour and was one of the first out the door when it ended.

Normally, Jeff would think on the strange event a bit and brush it off as the kid trying to adjust. Going from a place like McKinley to Dalton couldn't be easy, but something in his gut wouldn't let it be. He made a mad dash for his bag, apologizing briefly to David when he nearly knocked the upperclassman off his feet, and bolted out the door, determined to figure out what was up with Hummel.

He hadn't expected to find the kid on the roof. He _really_ hadn't expected the plain brown bags behind the air ducts, each one stuffed with a bottle of booze. _Kid was a freakin' drunk! _Jeff felt his face grow hot with anger as he watched Kurt take a deep swig from one of the bags next to him on his perch at the edge of the building, feet dangling against the bricks. He should've just left and alerted one of the schoolmasters. He should've reported the kid straight-away and been done with it. Kurt would be gone from the school in a heartbeat. No more Hummel.

But Jeff couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he carefully made his way over to the other boy, looking down at the hunched figure with intense scrutiny.

"You're going to get caught one of these days, Hummel." He sat down next to Kurt. The kid smelled terrible and looked worse. "I could report you, you know."

Kurt was quiet for a moment. He wouldn't look Jeff in the eye. "That's fine, I guess. It'll happen sooner or later." They fell into a deep, awkward silence. Kurt still wouldn't look at Jeff and he could feel his anger rising. The pushy little upstart needed to know his place! But Jeff could see the sadness written all over Hummel's face and so did nothing.

"Why do you do this to yourself, man?"

Kurt turned to him, finally meeting Jeff's eyes with a heavy bloodshot stare. "You wanna know why? Because this is how I can cope. Blaine told me I needed courage and this here," he waved the bottle in his hand, "it's all the courage I need. Liquid courage." His voice was a little lower than usual, his words slurring together a bit at the ends.

Jeff narrowed his eyes. "Courage? What the hell are you so afraid of, Kurt?"

Kurt just smiled at him. He looked flushed and sick in the late afternoon sun. "Don't you remember that old adage, Jeff? How a caged bird never sings? Well, I've found my cage, and I know now that I'll never fly. And this, this is how I've learned to sing."


End file.
